


I Want to Try

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22427410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: A post-season 2 story. Otis had given her permission for something she wasn't sure was still possible. But the way Jacob's eyes lingered on hers as he left the school gave her some semblance of hope. Perhaps it's not too late, they said. Maybe we could work?
Relationships: Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman
Comments: 29
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After nearly a week of going back and forth, I finally got something!

Otis had given her permission for something she wasn't sure was still possible. But the way Jacob's eyes lingered on hers as he left the school gave her some semblance of hope. _Perhaps it's not too late_ , they said. _Maybe we could work?_

She smiled softly and began to follow, finally ready to try for the kind of intimacy he was looking for when a voice stopped her.

"Dr. Milburn?"

She easily turned and found herself face-to-face with a tiny slip of a girl, covered head to toe in glitter and blue body paint.

"Andrea, you know Jean is fine," she said gently, reassuring her with a small smile. The young girl's eyes darted around a bit. She was clearly nervous, trying to steel herself.

"Um I'm sorry I didn't say anything during the play-"

"Oh," Jean says, her eyebrows etching together in confusion. She hadn't expected this. "Andrea, you didn't need to defend me." Her voice is calm and reassuring.

"Um, well I just wanted to say thanks," she shuffles on the balls of her feet, and Jean knows she has something else to say. So she waits. Years of serving as a therapist has strengthened her patience and she has always found that people get * _more_ * out of their sessions when they have the time to express themselves. Finally, the girl fiddles with her galactic blue skirt, her words coming out in a hurry "And I talked with my Mum anditsokay," she looks relieved at the admission. "She said Andrea is a beautiful name."

"She's right," Jean says softly, earning a smile from the girl.

Andrea tucks a strand of her brown chin-length hair behind her ear before saying goodbye and running back to her friends, most adorned with intergalactic phalluses and vulvas.

By the time she finally gets out into the night, walking fast to the school parking lot, Jakob is gone.

When she takes out her phone to call him, she's sent directly to his voicemail. The sound of the monotone, mechanical voicemail hurts more than it should. She had been _foolish_ to think there was hope. She clenches the phone in her hand and desperately looks up to the dark, cloudless sky because she had read in a book once that you could stop tears by looking up. It doesn't work and she's soon placing her hand against the pain in her chest.

* * *

When Otis gets home later that night, he expects that his Mum will be on the couch, rewatching a cheesy romance. But the television is off when he unlocks the door, and the lights are dimmed low. He turns his head to re-check outside and sure enough, her car is still there.

Walking up the stairs to her bedroom, he hears a small sob.

"Mum?"

The cry stops suddenly. A moment later and she clears her throat. He hears a sniffle.

"Yes, Otis?" She says with false cheerfulness, like he can't hear the tears in her voice.

"Are you okay?" He asks nervously, hands in pockets. It's an awkward question to ask. Up until very recently, he hasn't known a time where his Mum was never _not_ okay.

Or maybe he just wasn't paying attention? Too consumed with his own problems to even consider his Mum's.

Otis hears the sounds of her moving and before he knows it, the door is unlocked and slightly opened. Without her wedges, Jean has to crane her neck slightly up to look at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy and he can see that she's tried to wipe the evidence away. She looks incredibly tired.

"I will be," she says honestly. She's frowning slightly, her lip trembling and her eyes are glued to the ceiling. Otis suddenly realizes that she's trying not to cry.

"It is perfectly healthy to express your emotions," he says automatically, producing the phrase she had repeated frequently in his younger years.

She laughs out a sob and Otis outstretches his arms. She steps into his warm embrace and he hugs her tightly, trying to replicate her hugs, which always made him feel better.

* * *

Jean wakes in a haze the next morning, nausea pooling in her stomach. Her eyes feel swollen and it's a strain to open them. But she does open them, gazing at her phone only to see 0 missed calls. Despite the five calls she had _mistakenly_ made, because maybe he just missed the first call? She wants nothing more than to roll over in bed and go back to sleep, but knows her tendencies. If she lays in bed stewing all day today, it will only make her more inclined to do the same tomorrow. She wonders if this is how Jakob felt. 

Jean slides out of the bed and grabs her pink satin kimono-style robe, wrapping it around herself. She doesn't really _feel_ different, besides the nausea and occasional dizziness. And yet, everything was different. A baby was growing inside her. And the father of said baby was ignoring her. And she wasn't even sure if she could plausibly carry a baby to term at her age. 46 and * _pregnant_ *. She shakes the self-judgement away, knowing she would never judge another woman for these circumstances.

Walking slowly to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, she hears a knock at the door. When she opens it, Jakob is standing there, dressed in relaxed jeans and a sweater. Her eyes widen in surprise but he answers her question before she can ask it.

"Otis told me you needed someone to repair your faucet."

"Oh," she deflates, turning and walking towards the kitchen so she can hide the look of disappointment on her face. That he came to fix her faucet and not to see her stings. Everything seems to sting her now that she's opened up her heart. The pain makes her remember why she so fiercely guarded it in the first place. "Well...I'm not sure which faucet, but-"

"Jean, I have no tools," he says in a way that is meant to explain everything but instead explains nothing.

She turns, confused, her eyebrow arching quizzically.

"I did not believe him," he says casually with a smirk that suddenly makes her body fill with warmth. But when his face turns more serious, blue eyes searching hers, she begins to cool, until her insides were filled with dread. This was the moment he would resolutely tell her to never contact him again, wasn't it? 

"Why didn't you just call, Jean?" His voice is so sincere, and she can tell that he himself is confused. Always straightforward with his needs and wants, he can't understand why she would send her son with a story. Picking up on his thoughts, on the same wavelength as lovers often are, she first answers the question he hasn't asked.

"I didn't send Otis, Jakob," her voice is low and she clasps her hands in front of her, a nervous gesture. "I- He noticed I was upset, and I" she tightens her hands and hardens her face to keep from crying "I suppose he thought it would help if I saw you," she takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, her eyes everywhere but his, afraid of the judgement that may lie there.

"But you can call me if you need," he gently, so kindly that it makes her angry. Angry that he would look at her like there was hope but ignore her. Was this a game to him? To make her hurt like he had? Her fists ball at her sides, and her emotions begin to bubble over, threatening to come out all at once. 

"How can I when you're ignoring me!?" She shouts, exasperated. 

"Ignoring?" He takes a step toward her, seeking clarity, but her eyes are downcast and she steps backward.

"Yes, I clearly misread the signals from last night." Her voice is indignant and she swipes her fingers beneath her eyes, refusing to devolve to tears. "I tried calling you." _Five times_ a pathetically desperate voice whispers in her head.

Jakob suddenly slaps his palm against his face, exclaiming a phrase that she contextually realizes is likely a Swedish curse. He reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out the device.

"Off" he says simply, showing her the black screen with a small shake of his hand. "For the play," he adds for clarification.

She stares, gaping at the device for a moment, as if she herself is buffering; processing the fact that he wasn't ignoring her at all. It was a simple misunderstanding. Jakob _wasn't Remy_ , always trying his best to tear her down or pay her back for some perceived injustice. Jakob had come to her home to help her and she screamed at him. Over a missed phone call. 

What starts as a laugh quickly devolves into sobs, her left hand covering her eyes while her right presses against her chest. She's finally given up on pretending to be unaffected by him and letting her emotions out feels like a huge release.

"Jean," he says, concern is etched in his brows, stepping close to her, his hand gently touching her arm "what is the matter?" His tenderness only makes the pain in her chest, the heartache, hurt worse.

"I'm so _sorry_ Jakob," her voice strains through her tears and the tightening feeling in her chest. "I never apologized and you _deserve_ more."

"Oh _Jean,_ he says sadly, his warm arms wrapping around her.

"I made a mistake and I _hurt_ you. And I don't know what to do," she breaths heavily against his chest. He has never seen her cry before, except during romantic movies where he almost always sheds a tear himself. But here she was, in his arms, the most vulnerable he's ever seen her. "I just _miss_ you so much." The admission starts a fresh flurry of tears.

"I miss you too, Jean," his deep voice whispers. She tips up her head, her shining blue eyes now searching his, before scrunching them tightly and swallowing hard, as if trying to muster her courage.   
  
"I _know_ I'm not really ready" she begins, her eyes locked with his, her lips trembling. "And I'm not sure if I can ever be, but I _want_ to try. Only with you, Jakob."

He looks at her with a serious expression on his face, his eyes staring deeply into hers, taking in the weight of her words.

"Okay," he agrees, with a simple nod and a soft smile. "We can try."

She beams at him with such gracious relief and hope in her eyes. _A second chance_. Elation sweeps across her body, and suddenly her heart is beating faster and her head is tingling. She feels funny, and off-kilter. 

"J-Jakob?" she stutters, confused and clutching at his arm before everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some more angst here, but it gets better!

"Jean," she hears a soft voice whispering . _Jakob_ , she tries to answer, but she can't quite get his name out. He feels far away, and she can't quite reach him. "Jean. Jean, _darling._ " He sounds afraid, she realizes. She feels her arm being rubbed gently.

Slowly she opens her eyes, her face straining when the light feels too bright. "Jakob?" Her eyes dart around in confusion before realizing she's laying on her couch. She doesn't remember how she got here. Before she has a chance to ask, he answers her question.

"You fainted."

" _Oh_ " she looks embarrassed, but it quickly shifts to worry and she places her right hand on her stomach, soon sighing deeply in relief. She would _know_ if she lost the baby. Even in these early stages, she _knows_ she would know. She knew _before_. Jakob chooses that moment to take her left hand, running his calloused thumb over the space between her forefinger and thumb, as if pulling her back to reality; grounding her. She shakes her softly to dispel the bad memory. "I'm sorry, I-" But she pauses mid-sentence, unsure how to continue.

"Have you eaten?" Jakob asks, his eyes laced with concern. His voice sounds strained.

"Eaten?" She asks curiously, trying to push herself up to a sitting position on the couch, and graciously accepting his help. "No, but-"

"It is past 1:30." He says withough judgement, rising to a standing position, his hand still holding hers. "Shakshuka?"

Her stomach grumbles as if responding to his question, and he smiles softly before kissing the back of her hand and making his way to the kitchen.

"Wait-"

He turns back to look at her and his blue eyes shine. She has hurt him again, albeit unintentionally. But she couldn't _not_ tell him. _Trust. Talking. Truth_

"Can you please sit with me, Jakob?"

"Are you sick?" He sounds scared.

 _"No."_ Her voice is resolute. The sofa sags a tiny bit when he sits next to her, and she turns her body so she can look in his eyes. She needed to see his unguarded response. Her heart would shatter if he rejected her now, but she would somehow find a way to manage.

"When I was pregnant with Otis, I would occasionally experience vertigo and fainting spells."

"Otis is a young man now." He states matter-of-factly, unable to see the connection of fainting spells almost two decades apart.

She licks her bottom lip, catching it in between her teeth before looking up, tears beginning to blur her vision. What would she _do_ if he didn't want this? Didn't want her? No. That wouldn't happen. Jakob was kind. He loved her. She swallows thickly before continuing, placing her small hands atop his large ones.

"Yes, but...I'm pregnant, Jakob."

His face crumbles before her eyes and she sees a range of emotions cross his features in mere seconds. Shock, betrayal. _Disappointment._ Until it suddenly becomes blank.

"And have you told him?" Jakob's voice is flat and gravelly, his face wiped clean of all emotions.

"Not yet," she replies cautiously, confused by his response. She had expected shock, had optimistically hoped for excitement, but not expected apathy. And why was he asking about Otis and if he knew? Did he expect her to get an abortion? "I-I needed to talk to you first."

"I have to go," he replies gruffly, removing his hands from hers and getting off the couch quickly.

"Wait," she speeds up to meet him, catching his sweater in her fingers, pausing his flight. "Jakob, please."

"Jean, I cannot see you again," he strains, his back turned to her, and she realizes he's crying. Her hands immediately drop by her sides, her entire body deflating. Her eyes dart back and forth as brain works to put the pieces together. _This_ was her nightmare. Of all of the anxiety-driven scenarios she thought of when imagining telling him, _this_ was the one she dispelled as ridiculous. And now...

"I don't understand," she replies, dejectedly, still trying to understand his out-of-character response. "I know this must be unexpected after your vasectomy-"

Jakob's back suddenly goes rigid and she stops speaking suddenly, finally realizing _why_ he was so upset. He didn't want another child. She knew that much from his vasectomy. But now it was different, because he didn't want a child _with her_. Collecting herself, she starts again stiffly, tilting her chin upward and squaring her shoulders, deciding on a different conversation route. 

"Well then," She needs to detach herself from the situation so she could think rationally, not emotionally. They were both adults. She had raised a child on her own before and she could do it again. "Ola and Maja will of course still be welcome to-to-," but she stutters, her composure cracking under the weight of her situation. She doesn't hear him gasp in realization, too caught up in the bone-deep feeling of rejection. 

46 and pregnant.

_Alone._

Her eyes are shut tightly in attempt to fight against the tears already sliding down her cheeks, her right hand pressed against her chest. But suddenly she feels his large hands on either side of her face, the pads of his thumbs pushing her tears away. " _Jean, Jean, Jean_ ," he pleads desperately. She opens her red-rimmed eyes to see his, bright and full of wonder, looking directly at her.

"You are pregnant," he whispers, his hands still cupping her cheeks. "With our child," he plants a deep kiss to her forehead, before looking back at her, the lines besides his eyes crinkling in happiness. There are unshed tears in his eyes. " _My baby_ "

And suddenly his earlier question clicks. _Have you told him?_ He meant _Remy_. The realization hurts, but she can't blame him. Her indiscretion had lessened his trust in her and she would have to earn it back. She scolds herself for not realizing the source of his distress earlier, for as easy as she found it to identify and explain other's responses and feelings, she seemed hopeless when it came to sorting out the people who mattered in her own life.

" _Yes_ ," she smiles shyly, gazing into his love-filled eyes.

* * *

Later, as they lay in her bed that night, both satiated, he pulls her close, her back pressed to his warm front. His hand slides across her naked hip and rests atop her stomach, softly rubbing the toned flesh there. She has never before found the need for pillow talk with her lovers, outside of discussion of _performance_ , which Remy insisted on.

But Jakob was _different_. And she has to tell him. She can't let him go to sleep without telling him. Her voice is low and serious.

"I never slept with Remy, Jakob."

She shivers and he moves closer, snuggling Jean into the safety of his arms. Spooning her, his face is nearly atop hers. And so he presses his lips into the spot right where her jaw begins beneath her earlobe.

"I am sorry," he whispers. If he had taken her word, he could have saved them both a bit of heartbreak earlier. 

"I didn't plan to have another child at this stage in my life," she says thoughtfully. He hums deeply in agreement. "And I know the chances at my age..."she pauses, not wanting to discuss the reality of spontaneous abortion and miscarriage tonight. "But- I'm happy."

She feels his gentle smile against her face, and his lips against her cheek. And before she knows it, she has fallen asleep, warm in his embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts! Do you want Chapter 2?
> 
> If you have a prompt, send it to @shadequeenscully and I'll try to get to it within the next decade!


End file.
